


The Spock Computer

by binkabonkahankeydoo



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: A weird mix of crack and sobriety, Gen, I'm not sure why I have done this, M/M, just go with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 21:01:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7547163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/binkabonkahankeydoo/pseuds/binkabonkahankeydoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An experimental new computer upgrade + a poor choice of name = more flowers than James. T. Kirk knows what to do with.<br/>A weird mix of crack and sobriety.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Spock Computer

 

The Enterprise is plummeting out of control towards the surface of an unidentified planet, and it is one hundred percent not James T. Kirk's fault.

“Dammit Jim, this is entirely your fault!” Leonard McCoy, knuckles white and face red as he clings to the side of the captain's chair for dear life, yells in the general direction of the stated culprit. The Red Alert lights are flashing, the crew is being thrown about the bridge, and Kirk tries to avoid the thought, but eventually comes to the conclusion that McCoy maybe might be onto something.

“Scotty, what's going on down there?!” The intercom crackles, and Jim hears nothing but his own voice echoed back to him. “Uhura! Get me through to engineering!”

The dark haired woman is having trouble staying upright in her seat, and she yells over her shoulder, “I can't, sir. The whole system is dead. There's nothing I can do!”

Before he can issue another command, the ship jerks to the side and tips sharply forward. Kirk slips to the floor, sliding painfully into the side of the helm as the Enterprise goes ass up, and Sulu reaches over and grabs ahold of his arm to keep him steady. The pilot yells in his ear.

“Captain, we've got no power to helm controls; we're free falling and I can't stop it, sir.”

The ship lurches forwards again, tipping more suddenly than before, and beside them, Chekov's face slams loudly into the controls. Blood flicks onto Sulu's shirt from the impact, and he reaches out to grab the ensign quickly before he falls.

Kirk manages to drag himself back to his chair. “Someone give me some good news!”

No one has anything to offer him as they plummet towards their deaths, and Jim can feel the intensity of McCoy’s glare as his eyes burn a hole into the back of his head.

“What, Bones?!”

“Maybe you should try apologising to him! ” The sarcasm in his tone is lethal, and the fact that he manages to display that much vigorous sass while they plummet through space at twelve hundred bajillion miles an hour is an astounding feat accomplishable only because of the true integrity of the CMO’s sourness.

Jim honestly feels like whining. He really just wants to stomp his feet and pout. Anything except apologise to him.

But he looks over at Sulu cradling Chekov's head against his shoulder, trying desperately to keep the Russian from hurting himself any more in his unconscious state, and so Kirk does his best to stand, and to yell over the sounds of crashing and general disorder.

“Spock? Spock, can you hear me?”

The Enterprise’s decent continues. Kirk yells louder.

“Spock, I'm really sorry that I didn't say, “I love you” back.”

Sulu looks at him like he's sprouted another head, and in that moment Jim considers just letting the ship crash into the planet.

“Spock, you know I didn't mean it, right? You know I love you.” For a moment, nothing changes.

Then, slowly, the ship levels out, the Red Alert stops, and the console lights begin to flash happy greens and yellows once more.

“Helm control reengaged. All systems online and functional.”

“Communications reestablished. Engineering reports a fully operational warp core.”

“Life support systems stabilised. No hull damage reported.”

“Minimal injuries. No casualties.”

“Orbit reestablished.”

And then they're all looking at him. They all want to know what the diddlyheck just happened, of course, but he can't seem to meet anyone's eyes as he sinks lower into his chair. He has no idea how he's going to crawl himself out of this hole.

McCoy sighs sympathetically behind him, but steps forward to tend to the injured Chekov and leaves him to fend for himself.

Jim sure as hell doesn't break the silence. Sulu's curiosity, however, is apparently insatiable.

“Sir, if you don't mind me asking....?”

 

**ONE WEEK AGO**

 

The Enterprise had been docked at Star Base Five for just over two weeks while undergoing upgrades and repairs, and Kirk was absolutely itching to get back out into space.

McCoy would tell him that technically, “we're still in space, you dingbat,” and Kirk would roll his eyes. It was the adventure that he longed for – the possibility of finding something new, and at the time, he hadn't thought that he would find that on the Star Base.

He was wrong, of course.

If adventure was what he'd wanted, then that was certainly what he got. His itch was about to be scratched.

  
*****

 

“This new computer interface is much more advanced than its earlier counterparts, its function being to give the captain of the vessel complete control of the ship's functions with a mere few words.”

Kirk, McCoy, and first officer Spock stand around the newly installed device on the Enterprise, the Star Base mechanic running them through the basics of the new system they were to be trialling.

“As such, each device is installed with its own blank personality data complex, so that over time it can learn and grow, and it will function on this ship like a regular crew member. The aim of this is to form bonds between the computer and the crew – a sort of trust.”

The mechanic then reaches over and flips a switch, and the lights flash to life. A deep, male voice comes from the intercom panel as something inside the device starts to whir.

“Greetings, Captain Kirk, First Officer Spock, and Chief Medical Officer McCoy. I am the computer matrix newly assigned to the USS Enterprise. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

The mechanic smiles fondly and lightly pats the top of the machine. “You can give him a name, Captain, if you'd like.”

Maybe it was boredom. Maybe he had thought it was a good idea at the time.

It was probably boredom.

“I'm going to name him, “Spock.””

The device starts whirring, the lights flashing as though the machine is thinking.

McCoy rolls his eyes so hard it's almost an audible event. Spock bows his head slightly, “I am greatly honoured.”

The mechanic, however, looks like he's just seem a fully grown man drop an ice cream cone on the ground and then pick it up and keep right on eating it.

“What?”

“It's just.....you named him after a real person.” “Yes?”

“Well, sir, these units are designed to form bonds with people – to learn and to analyse the relationships between people, so that it may understand and mimic them.”

“What are you saying?”

“I'm saying that this computer unit will probably try to interact with you in the same way that Mr. Spock here does.”

“Well, that doesn't sound so bad.”

“ You misunderstand, sir. The computer won't be Spock, but it might try to fill the role that he plays in your life. It.....it may get competitive.”

“That's.....a pretty big design flaw you've got there.” The mechanic shrugs.

The device's whirring ceases, and all the lights – bar the one that flashes as it speaks – turn off. It's voice is now an exact replication of their resident half Vulcan's.

“Hello. My name is Spock.”

Kirk looks sideways at his first officer, who raises an eyebrow in return. The mechanic pinches the bridge of his nose. “Ah, crap.”

McCoy folds his arms across his chest and looks wistfully into the distance. “This is gonna be so good.”

 

*****

 

“I was wrong. This is really bad.” McCoy says, pressing his fingers to his temples. That damn song is going to give him a headache every time he hears in from now on, he's sure of it.

“This is the worst thing to ever happen.” Kirk mutters, doing his best to stop up his ears with his fingers.

“Last year you died, Jim.”

“This is worse.”

They’d been back out in space for three days, the mechanic at Star Base Five having cleared them for departure, telling them that the computer personality shouldn't become a hindrance to the functioning of the ship, and that everything should be “just fine and dandy”, before he had shuffled away, laughing nervously.

Of course, Kirk couldn't find another mechanic on the station who had wanted to talk to him, all of them apparently having been warned off by the first, and so the Enterprise was forced to leave Dock with the new upgrade still operational.

At first, it had seemed like they'd dodged a bullet; everything appearing to be running smoothly. The computer operated to its maximum capacity; the improved functions in the new system were active and increasingly impressive, and the interface was friendly enough in its interactions with....well.....most of the crew.

Mr. Spock, of course, had a few complaints, being the only person on board whom the interface openly disliked.

“Captain, I believe the new computer interface to be counterproductive to my duties on this ship.” The Vulcan states, stepping up beside the Captain's chair.

“Oh? How so?” Kirk scrunches up his nose, trying to hide a smile. He had, after all, witnessed the computer call Spock an “air-headed floozy”, and then proceed to shut down his entire work station.

“The system repeatedly inhibits any actions I attempt to make, and is consistently unhelpful in its remarks regarding my competence as a Starfleet Officer.”

Kirk bites his lip. “Ah, I see.”

“As I have not observed this form of behaviour toward any other member of the crew, it seems of a high likelihood that the poor conduct of the new interface towards myself is therefore due to our shared title.”

“Indeed, Mr. Spock.”

His First Officer looks at him sideways, and raises one perfectly arched eyebrow at the expression he finds on his superior's face. “Are you laughing at me, Captain?”

“Oh, I'm really trying hard not to, Spock.”

The Vulcan straightens his back out (though how it could get any straighter than it was before remains a mystery to Kirk), and folds his hands behind him, eyes once again focused straight ahead. If he were human, Spock would be pouting.

“Look, Spock, there's nothing I can do right now. You'll have to make do until we dock at the next Star Base.”

“Captain, I am effectively useless while this interface continues to operate aboard the Enterprise.”

“I know, Spock, I'm sorry. But it's not like it's my fault ” Spock raises his eyebrow, “okay, so maybe it's my fault, but I had no idea that he would dislike you so much!”

The Science Officer doesn't respond, and Kirk leans across his chair to rest a hand on his shoulder.

“If it makes you feel any better, _I_ still like you, Spock.”  
The other man peers unblinkingly into his eyes for just long enough for Kirk to wonder if he'll lose himself there, before he turns away once more.

“It did not,” Spock says, and, leaving Kirk pouting in the Captain's chair, returns to his station. Jim watches his First Officer go for a moment, before he leans back and lets out a sigh.

“Well, it could have been a lot worse,” he says quietly to himself.

After the fact, when he looks back on the whole fiasco, Kirk is pretty sure that the entire following series of fuck-ups could have been completely avoided if he hadn't found it entirely necessary to utter those words.

Because naturally, that was the precise moment that the whole thing went tits up.

The ships intercoms had crackled loudly with static, before a soft melody had begun to trickle out.

Never let it be said that Captain James T. Kirk dislikes a good old fashioned romantic love song, but when Billy Ocean repeatedly insists that “love really hurts without you” to the entire ship, and neither your Communications Officer nor your Chief Engineer can figure out how to stop it, it can tend to make one a little bitter.

Billy Ocean serenades the Enterprise for nine and a half hours.

 

*****

 

It’s been two hours since Uhura had figured out how to jam a sock into Mr. Ocean's metaphorical cake hole.

Kirk and the good doctor find themselves standing in one of the lower corridors of the Enterprise, completely blocked in by large pots of flowers of every size and shape. The pair of them had been walking up towards the mess hall one moment, the next, neither could take a single step in any direction without tripping over mother nature and her impromptu visit.

McCoy rubs at his eyes with the heels of his palms. “Dammit.”

Kirk sighs, doing his best to hold back a sneeze.

“It was funny when it was pickin' fights with Spock, but this is the third time this has happened, Jim! The third time in two bloody hours!”

“I know, Bones, I know,” the captain sighs, trying to wiggle his way around some of the flower pots. “I just don't know what to do about it. He doesn't listen to me.”

Another vase of flowers materialises suddenly before the captain as he attempts to sidestep a particularly large pot, and the man yelps in surprise before managing to thump his head on a peculiarly shaped flowerpot suspended from the ceiling.

“You gotta stop callin' it a “he”, Jim, you'll only egg it on.”

Kirk rubs his head. “Yeah, well, what else am I supposed to call him, then?”

McCoy shrugs. “I got nothin’ for ya there, Jim. You shouldn't've named the damn thing after that pointy eared bastard in the first place.”

Kirk grumbles a mildly profane response, and resumes his attempts to pick his way out of the forest of flowers; McCoy decides that he's just going to stand back and watch. Sure enough, Jim hits his head again almost immediately, and gets a face full of flowers.

Coughing and spluttering, the captain retreats a few steps, and furiously wipes at his face with his sleeve, trying to hold in the sneeze that the doctor can see building up. “I don't get it, Bones, this computer isn't acting at all like Spock!”

“The guy didn't say that it would. As I recall it, the computer is trying to outdo Spock.”

“Outdo Spock? How is this outdoing Spock!?” Kirk nearly yells, gesturing to the plant life around them.

“Well, Spock would never send you flowers”

“Because he knows that I'm mildly allergic to them!”

“Mildly?!”

McCoy sighs somewhat dramatically as Jim pouts at him. How was this kid the Captain, again?

“This interface was developed by humans, Jim.”

“And?”

“What does the giving of flowers to another generally represent in our culture?”

“A get well soon gift?”

“No, you turnip, it's a symbol of romantic affection!”

Kirk freezes aborting his fourth attempt to escape the labyrinth of flora, and turns back to stare wide eyed at McCoy. “Are you saying”

“That the interface is trying to be to you what Spock is to you, but only has a very human way of going about it? Yes.”

“But....Spock and I....we're not.....”

“Sure you're not.”

Jim scowls at his friend, embarrassingly close to stomping his foot.

Both men startle as an intricately woven diadem of flowers materialises on Kirk's head. The captain pulls it off and looks at it strangely, face contorting.

“Jim?”

He sneezes. McCoy sighs.

 

*****

 

The room is quiet, the gentle rumble of the ship's engines a comforting hum in the background. Kirk reclines on his bed, allowing himself to close his eyes for just a little while. It had been a long day.

“Jim.”

The voice startles him, sounding as though it's come from beside him, and for a split second, he believes that his first officer is lying over on the next pillow. He shakes himself from the idea when he realises that it's only the computer.

“Oh, uh, hello......Spock.”

“Did you enjoy the flowers I sent you?”

Kirk reaches for the light switch, but the room is bathed in light before his fingers even touch the panel. The computer is watching him.

“Oh yeah, they were......great.”

Of course, he'd received another nine surprise appearances of flowers in the

last six hours, and honestly had not enjoyed them. “I'm glad. I have another gift you you.”

“Oh, you really didn't have to do tha-”

In a flash, the room is filled with thousands of tiny red and pink heart shaped chocolates; every visible surface is covered with them.

“I....um....don't know what to say, Spock. Thank you?” “I shall leave now, so you may get some sleep.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.”

The computer goes quiet, and for a few moments Kirk sits in silence, just looking at the mountains of chocolate. A huge pile blocks his path to the door, and he won't even be able to lie down on the bed without melting some to his backside. He settles for picking his way carefully across the floor towards the intercom. He only squishes maybe a hundred on his way.

“Kirk to Sickbay.”

“This is McCoy.”

“Bones, you gotta get down here.”

“What is it, Jim? Is everything okay?”

Kirk picks up a chocolate, fingers prying off the tinfoil wrappings.

“Oh yes, everything's fine, I'm just trapped in my quarters by a ridiculous amount of heart shaped chocolates.”

“What?”

Jim pops the sweet into his mouth and chews it thoughtfully.

“I can assure you that they're quite delicious, and that I'm certainly in no danger of starving.”

 

*****

 

The Captain and his Chief Medical Officer sit together in the dimness of the formers now chocolate free quarters, contemplating the mess they've found themselves in.

It had been sixteen hours since a recovery team managed to dig Jim out of the mountain of chocolates, and the entire situation had only managed to get worse from there. Namely, the ten meter tall teddy bear that had materialised on the bridge during alpha shift, knocking three crew members to the ground in a flurry of squishy oversized limbs.

Jim had leaped over the fluffy monstrosity, shouting for his First Officer in a panic. “Spock?! Spock, can you hear me?” He pulls at the fluffy leg, but is unable to shift its huge weight on his own. “Spock, are you okay?!”

“I am uninjured, Captain.” Spock says, his voice muffled.

“Oh, thank god. Can you breath under there, Spock?”

“Breathing is mildly unpleasant.”

The same recovery team that had rescued the Captain from his chocolatey prison had then arrived, and the three crew members trapped beneath the bear were freed.

Staying just long enough to make sure his crew was unharmed and his First Officer's perfect hair was back in place, Kirk leaves the bridge, muttering something about “a fricking shittonne of alcohol”.

Spock looks questioningly at McCoy as the other man sighs. “I'll go talk to Jim.”

“Very well.”

So now McCoy is folded neatly into a chair by the Captain's bed, drink in hand, staring at the ceiling.

Kirk has his face pressed flat against the table, arms hanging limply at his sides. His voice comes out a little muffled.

“What am I going to do, Bones?”

It would be an understatement to say that they've had a rough go of the last few days, and McCoy is sure, unfortunately, that no amount of alcohol will ever erase recent events from his mind.

That's not going to stop him from trying, of course.

McCoy takes a large swig of his drink. “I dunno. You're fucked as far as I'm concerned.”

“Thanks. Helpful and comforting.”

The door chimes, and Kirk forces himself to sit up, trying to rub the red

impressions left by the desk from his forehead. “Come in.”

Mr. Scott enters the room, a solemn expression set on his face.

Kirk rises eagerly from his seat to greet his chief engineer. “Have you found a way to deactivate the new computer interface without disabling the entire computing network?”

Mr. Scott's mouth forms a thin line. “No, sir.”

Kirk's face falls. “Do you have any good news?”

“....No, sir.”

Kirks groans loudly, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “You're dismissed then, Scotty.”

The engineer doesn't move, and after a moment, Kirk looks back up at him. “Scotty?”

The man visibly hesitates, fidgeting. “...I....do have some more bad news, sir.”

“Yes?”

“The computer interface is holding Mr. Spock captive in the brig, sir.”

The cabin is silent as the captain tries to process this new information. McCoy knocks back the rest of his drink, and Mr. Scott doesn't look far from enquiring after a liquid of his own. Kirk eventually seems to come back to himself.

“It's WHAT?!”

  
*****

  
“Spock, I'm gonna get you out of there, just hold on, okay?”

Kirk stands with his hands pressed against the glass, looking into the cell in which Mr. Spock is currently imprisoned. The first thing he tried was to input the emergency release codes, but the computer interface had apparently beaten him to it, and locked them out of the system. He'd then gone straight for his phaser, but Spock had informed him of the poor logic of that idea. Apparently, the glass was phaser resistant or some dumb shit like that.

Spock stands now on the other side of the glass to Kirk, resisting the strong temptation to place his palms concurrently to his captains.

“I am in the brig, captain. There is in fact nothing to hold onto.”

Behind him, Kirk can practically feel McCoy rolling his eyes.

Kirk cracks a small smile. “You know what I mean, Spock. And I'm gonna get you out of here soon, you hear me?”

“Yes, captain.”

“I just gotta figure out how to shut down Spock. I mean, shit, the new computer interface.”

The flesh and blood Spock raises an eyebrow at the mistake. Jim sighs. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

 

*****

 

Kirk is on his way to the Bridge when the lights flicker off and the Turbolift grinds to a halt.

He'd had had no luck in freeing his First Officer from the brig, and the Vulcan had eventually told him to focus on finding a way to deactivate or remove the interface, rather than spend his energies on releasing him.

He'd reluctantly agreed, leaving an engineering team behind to continue to work on the problem in his absence.

Of course, Kirk hadn't even made it as far as the Bridge before he ran into yet another problem.

“Jim.”

Fuck.

“Uh...hello.”

He stands there awkwardly for a moment, hands unsure what to do with themselves.

“So....uh, what's up, then?”

Again, the computer says nothing, leaving Kirk scrambling for something to say in a futile attempt to relieve the awkwardness he manages to feel whilst standing alone in an elevator.

“I-” he barely begins his sentence before the interface interrupts.

“I'm in love with you, Jim.”

Kirk blinks a few times.

“What the _fuck_.”

 

**PRESENT**

 

“And that was about five minutes ago.” Kirk explains to his remaining helmsman as he leans back into the Captain's chair, eyes slightly glazed as he rubs at his forehead. The paperwork on this was going to be ridiculous.

Sulu stares at him with wide eyes and pinched lips. He's polite enough not to outright laugh, trying to maintain somewhat of a civilised air about him.

Uhura, on the other hand, is a complete savage, and has no regard whatsoever for the dignity of others. Her breath comes in short gasps and her face is rapidly turning an alarming shade of purple.

She tries interlocking her fingers behind her head and looking up at the ceiling, but it doesn't work and now there are tears streaming down her face.

“God dammit, Uhura. Have some sympathy!”

The Lieutenant tries to speak apologise, maybe (ppfffttt), but only a breathless squeak comes out.

Kirk sighs.

A whistle. “Med Bay to Bridge.”

“Kirk here. What is it, Bones?”

“You should probably come down here, Jim.”

The atmosphere on the bridge sobers quickly.

 

*****

 

Kirk perches on the biobed next to Chekov. The monitor beeps softly, rhythmically, and he can do nothing but stare at his Ensign's bloody and bruised face.  
His breathing remains slow and steady; sedated for now, until the test results can reveal the full extent of his internal injuries.

“His skull is fractured in three places,” McCoy had said, pointing first to Chekov's eye socket, his brow, then his cheekbone, “and the cartilage in his nose was slammed far enough back into his head to cause bruising and bleeding in the brain.”

The Doctor's words echo loudly in Kirk's ear, and he closes his eyes against the guilt.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, but some time later the doors slide quietly open, and Kirk doesn’t look up. The soft footfalls come to a stop by his side.

A few moments pass in silence. Then; “Will he be alright, Captain?”

Kirk finally brings himself to look up. Sulu looks tired. His jaw is clenched. His eyes are fixed to the figure on the bed.

Kirk doesn’t know what to say to him. He takes the easy way out. “I don't know, Sulu.”

He slides off the biobed to stand in front of his ensign. He doesn't look him in the eyes.

“I don't know.”

Kirk leaves the room.

 

*****

 

He goes where he always goes when he feels worthless.

Spock.

Only now there’s more than rules and regulations standing between them, and he knows that that’s his fault, too.

“What has happened?” Spock asks him from behind the glass, legs tucked underneath his body in a meditative posture. He rises as Kirk approaches.

He honestly doesn't know where to begin. Spock looks at him expecting an answer and all he can do is close his eyes and rest his forehead against the glass. His fingers trail along the glass, like if he just pressed hard enough he would be able to reach his first officer.

For a moment there is nothing but darkness behind his eyelids and quiet in the air around him. Oh god, this glass remind him of-

Then a tingle in his mind. His eyes flash open.

Spock is looking at him, really looking at him, his fingertips pressed neatly into the glass, perfectly opposite to Kirk's.

“Jim”. Quiet. Soft. Intimate.

He opens his mouth to say more, but Kirk stops him.

“I know, Spock. I know.” He brings a hand up to the glass in front of his first officer's face, like he could stroke it, touch it; dropping it back down when he remembers he can't. “Me too.”

The silence stretches as they look at each other. The glass barrier between them feels cold; smooth, and brings back stabbing memories of Khan and the warp core. Now it’s Spock trapped behind the glass, and Kirk can’t help but look down against the onslaught of panic and memories.

“Jim.” Spock says again, more sharply, forcing his eyes to refocus on him.

He tilts his head and Kirk knows that he means to reassure him. At the corners of his lips he can make out what may or may not be the faintest trace of a smile.

Kirk lets out a huff of air and rests his forehead back against the glass. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

On the other side, Spock lets his fingers trace along the barrier. Though the caress does not touch him, Kirk’s cheek tingles. “It will not.”

They stand there like that for some time, locked in an embrace that isn’t physical, but nonetheless all encompassing.

The intercom beeps and Kirk stands up a little straighter; “Engineering to Captain Kirk.”

“Kirk here.”

“Captain, I think I’ve found us a way ta get Mr. Spock outta the brig, sir.”

“Scotty! That’s great news! I’ll be right there. Kirk out.”

He turns his attention back to his First Officer, pressing himself closer to the glass than before.

“I’m going to get you out of here.”

Spock nods, and when Kirk pulls back from the glass, taking a few steps back toward the door, the tingling under his skin dissipates. He feels colder now than he felt before, and he doesn’t want to leave. He forces himself to turn to the door.

It doesn’t open.

He frowns at the sensor, and the manual override button doesn’t work when he presses it either.

“Kirk to engineering.” Silence.

“Kirk to engineering.” Nothing.

He tries to pry open the door with his fingers, but he knows it’s no use. “Dammit.”

Spock peers at him from inside the cell, eyebrows pulled down into as much of a frown as he can muster. “Jim”

The comms crackle, and then; “You’re in love with him?”

Kirk has to do a double take. “What?”

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” The computer speaks again, and Kirk blinks. How is he meant to respond to that?

He looks over at Spock, still in the cell. Their eyes lock, and Kirk freezes. How is he meant to answer that question when the man in question is right in front of him? Denying it wouldn’t feel right, and yet saying it out loud is too daunting too real.

“Well?”

“I...I honestly don’t know what to tell you.”

When the silence grows too much for him, Kirk continues. His words are unsteady but sure. He doesn’t break eye contact with the man in the brig.

“Spock has been my First Officer for so many years now. I trust him more than anyone else in the universe. He’s been inside of my mind hell I’ve been inside of his. There isn’t anyone I could truthfully say I know better or who knows me better.”

Kirk trails into silence, silently begging Spock to understand that he can’t say it. He can’t say t hose words, even though he may want to. Spock gazes back at him through the glass with those damn soulful eyes, and Kirk knows all he needs to.

“So you do love him.” The generated voice seems quieter sadder. “You said you loved _me_.”

“I’m sorry.”

For a moment, the silence creeps up around them. And then-

“So am I.”

“What does that-”

The vents at the top of the walls click open and the air whistles loudly as it’s sucked through them.

“What are you doing?”

“If I can’t have you, no one can.”

“That’s a little cliché isn’t it-” he chokes on the end of his sentence, struggling to breathe. The air’s getting thinner. His legs wobble slightly beneath him.

“Jim?” Spock looks at him with wide eyes.

His laboured breathing devolves into gasping and his legs buckle.

“Jim!” Spock pounds on the glass with his fists. “Jim” His shouts turn to silence behind the glass as the sound dampening barrier rises.

The air around him feels hot; a faint buzzing in his ears grows louder.

“Spock....please...”

“You leave me no choice.”

Kirk’s vision blurs and blackens around the edges. His chest feels tight. The floor is cool against his face. When did he lie down? He can’t remember.

The wall of the brig barely shakes as his Spock throws punch after punch at it, his knuckles splitting open, green blood smearing across the glass surface. He’s yelling screaming but Kirk can’t hear him.

The beginning of Spock’s name forms on his lips, but his lungs have nothing to give and the word dies on his tongue.

The buzzing in his ears is so loud, now. The world blurs to a small pin point.

And then nothing.

  
*****

 

Kirk blinks up at the infirmary ceiling, squinting against the large overhead lights. They’re too bright to look at, but when he shuts his eyes the pounding in his head is worse.

Around him he can hear various beeping noises and hushed words.

“-He’s waking up. You should get down here.”

He considers just closing his eyes and going back to sleep. While he sluggishly fumbles to shield his eyes against the light, his brain catches up with him. The world around him tilts as he sits bolt upright, panic kicking in. Blood pounds in his ears, and strong hands are pushing him back down onto the biobed.

“Whoa there, take it easy, Jim.”

“Bones?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

His eyes start to refocus, and he can see the doctors worry worn face frowning down at him.

“What....? What happened?”

“I think Spock could answer that better than me.” “Spock?”

 “Yeah, Jim. Spock. He’s on his way now.”

He must look particularly confused, because McCoy sighs and pats his shoulder. “It’s okay, Jim. You’ll probably feel a little confused for a while, but it’ll come back to you. It was a close call. You were out for a long time.”

“How long?”

“Five hours.”

“-Five hours?! The ship-” He tries to sit up again and McCoy pushes him back down.

“Hey, it’s okay, Spock’s been taking care of things. Just take it easy, Jim. Please.”

Kirk takes a deep breath, nodding, letting the tension in his muscles melt away.

“Would you like to sit up?”

He nods, and the doctor slides a hand under his back, levering him up and propping him against the wall. The world spins again, though not quite as violently as before, and it only takes him a few moments to regain his bearings.

To his left, a few biobeds over, Chekov is propped up by a few pillows, a book open on his lap. His face is still purple and bruised in some places, but the swelling around his nose seems to have gone down some. Beside him, slumped over in a chair, face buried in the covers, Sulu sleeps quietly as his copilot gently strokes his fingers through his hair.

Chekov looks over at him and waves. Kirk smiles in return.

“He’s doing a lot better.” McCoy says softly, bringing the captain’s attention back to him. “It’ll take him a while to get properly back on his feet, but he’s going to make a full recovery.”

“Good, that’s good.”

The medbay door slides open and Spock steps through, hands clasped behind his back, expression stoic as ever.

“Oh good, the hobgoblin is here.”

“Hey,” Kirk lightly smacks his arm. “You called him.”

McCoy rolls his eyes dramatically. “Yeah, so?”

Spock gracefully steps up to the side of his biobed, paying no mind to the doctor's words.

“Captain, it is good to see that your recovery is going well.”

“Yes, thank you, Spock.” Attempting to sit up further, the only thing Kirk accomplishes is making himself dizzier. Spock shoots out a hand to steady him, and Kirk catches a glimpse of his bandaged knuckles. Flashes of Spock punching the glass until he bled come back to him.

“And what about you? Are you okay?”

“I am well, Captain. My wounds are superficial and will soon heal.”

McCoy coughs loudly and Jim hears what he thinks sounds a lot like “five fractured fingers”. He frowns at his first officer, but doesn’t push the matter.

“What happened, Spock? How did you get out of the brig? How am I still alive?”

Spock doesn’t answer for long enough that Kirk questions whether he actually spoke aloud.

“Spo-”

“Doctor McCoy,” Spock interrupts, turning to face the other man. “May the Captain and I speak in private?”

McCoy scowls, looking genuinely putout, but turns in the direction of his office.

“I’ll be in here if you _actually_ need me for anything.” He says irritably, disappearing through the door.

Spock watches McCoy leave before turning back to his captain. “I have not yet spoken with anyone else about the events in the brig, because the release of these details will likely have ramifications, and I wished for you to be aware of them first.”

Kirk nods, indicating for him to continue.

“Shortly after you lost consciousness, the containment field in the brig powered down, and I was able to escape from the cell. This, I believe, is thanks to Mr. Scott’s efforts in engineering.”

Spock pauses for a moment before continuing, and Kirk knows that he must be finding this difficult to speak about.

“I was unable to open the door into the corridor, nor was there enough oxygen left for me to attempt to reprogram the control panel. I calculated that I had less than twenty seconds before I, too, succumbed to suffocation. So I took the only available course of action left to me. I joined my mind with the computer.”

“You mindmelded with it?!”

“Yes. I showed the computer my mind. I let it see my every thought. Every emotion.”

“But....why?”

“Because I am in love with you.”

Anything Kirk might have been about to say died in his throat.

“When my mind was linked with the computer, it was able to see you the way that I see you. It could no longer persist in hurting you, and to ensure your continued safety, shut itself down and sabotaged its own circuits.”

Spock looks down into his eyes. _Really_ looks. “The computer destroyed itself, Jim, because it learned to love you like I love you.”

Silence falls between the two men, and Kirk finds he has lost the ability to speak. His heart is hammering in his chest, and his tongue feels like lead in his mouth.

He extends his arm shakily offering his open palm to the man before him. Spock looks down at the presented hand, and ever so gently takes it in his own. An electric tingle passes between them, and Jim shivers at the sensation. Spock’s eyes slip closed, and he whispers softly against the other man’s fingers as he lifts them to his lips.

_“T’hy’la.”_

They stay like this for some time, letting the electricity pass between them. This connection between them must have always been there. On some level, Kirk thinks he always knew. But right now, caught in its embrace, it feels both startlingly new and comfortingly familiar. It feels warm. It feels safe. It feels like coming home.

Spock is the first to speak. “Which course of action are we to take, Jim?”

Kirk sighs and leans back against the wall, never breaking his contact with Spock. “I don’t know. Starfleet is going to find out eventually. I mean, someone is going to recover the security video from the brig at some point and see it all. If that’s the first thing that tips them off from this whole ridiculous event.”

Kirk smiles up at him. “But it’s okay. We’ll figure it out, just like we figure everything else out.”

Spock quirks an eyebrow at him, and Kirk’s smile becomes fond. “Together.”

The science officer tilts his head slightly to the side, peering down at him, and Kirk can’t quite read his expression.

“Wha-”

Spock cuts him off, leans down and presses their lips together. It’s soft and gentle, and very chaste, but the feeling that zaps between them is like nothing he’s ever felt before, and he wants so much more.

“What the fuck-” McCoy gags obnoxiously on the other side of the room, and Chekov lets out a little hurrah, which startles Sulu awake, a little dribble on his chin as he looks around with bleary eyes.

“In my goddamn sickbay? Really?”

Kirk huffs a laugh, smiling against Spock’s lips. The Vulcan pulls back from their kiss, amusement hiding at the edges of his mouth.

“Bones-” Jim starts, but the doctor is already leaving the room room again, cursing.

“I need a fucking drink. Goddammit.”

Kirk chuckles softly as his friend exits. “Looks like we scared off the good doctor..”

He brings his eyes back up to meet Spock’s, and the other man looks quite serious again, suddenly.

“There is one more matter that may be of immediate importance to you. In human expression, this constitutes “bad news.””

“Yes, Spock?”

“The computer has been successfully shut down.” “I thought that was the good news?”

“It is both. At the time it was immediately necessary for me to disable the computer. However, this has effectively left the Enterprise and all those on board stranded in space.”

“Oh.”

“We are in the middle of nowhere and completely at the mercy of any ships which should pass us by.”

Kirk stares at his first officer for a moment, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Well, _fuck_.”

  
The End.


End file.
